


The Choices I've Made

by Lopsided_Whiskey_Grin



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Destiel - Freeform, Gay Sex, Intimacy, Kissing, M/M, Misunderstandings, OTP Feels, Passion, Sexual Content, This ship sails itself
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-24
Updated: 2013-11-13
Packaged: 2017-12-30 08:14:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1016233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lopsided_Whiskey_Grin/pseuds/Lopsided_Whiskey_Grin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You can't stay"<br/>Words that defined a choice Dean never thought he'd have to make<br/>Words that defined a choice Cas made for him</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> You are free to make your choices, but you are not free to choose the consequences

“You can’t stay.”

The heart in Cas’ chest, that beating thing he had slowly become accustomed to, seemed to stop completely at Dean’s words. While he was still trying to understand socially acceptable human conventions, he hadn’t thought he’d done anything in the short time he’d been in the bunker to incur Dean’s sudden hostility. 

He stared at him in disbelief, his stomach twisting uneasily, his hand tightening over his forgotten lunch. 

Dean was the first to break his gaze away, his eyes, like the darkest shade of cut sea glass, were shimmering and pained as he looked down at his hands. 

Cas shared a bond with the man standing before him, a profound one, and had, even at the worst of times, been able to read into Dean’s emotions somewhat, could sense a pale echo of the feelings he hid so well from others. 

But now, with his grace stripped away from him, he was helpless to understand Dean’s motivation for suddenly pushing him away. He tried to reach out mentally, to find a reason, to find out what he had done wrong, but it was like groping for someone in the dark; he was completely shut off. 

Cas swallowed hard against a dry throat. “I do not understand.”

Dean drug his eyes up, centering them on Cas again, his eyebrows drawn together in an expression that seemed to be a mix between grief and regret. “It’s just that,” he broke off, scrubbing a hand roughly against the back of his neck. He closed his eyes for a moment, huffing out a deep sigh before continuing again. “It’s the only way I can keep Sammy safe. And I can’t tell you why.” His voice broke over the last word. 

Cas felt like he understood less now than he had only a moment ago. His heart, which had felt numb and cold in his chest, suddenly hurt, like it was breaking into hundreds of fragmented pieces. The pain he had only just begun to experience in his human form, including the fatal wounds he had received at the hands of April, didn’t come close to the pain he felt now: a sharp, hollow ache that made it hard for him to draw a breath. 

He slowly nodded his understanding, though he did not understand at all, and stood up from the table on shaky legs. He knew, possibly better than anyone, Dean’s fierce devotion to his brother, and rightly so; the Winchesters had been through more trials and hardships together than any family had any right to be subjected to, and they had fought through them together, had protected one another from the evils of this world and the next. 

But it had never been Cas’ intention to hurt Sam in any way, deliberately or not. He could not grasp why, suddenly, Dean saw him as such a threat to Sam’s safety. He could only walk away, could only honor Dean’s request as a repayment for all that Dean had done for him. 

He turned to walk back toward the sleeping quarters, to the room he had claimed for such a short time, just to grab the few necessities he had brought with him. His toothbrush, two wrinkled dollar bills, his angel blade, still stained with his own blood. 

“I’ll set you up in a nice hotel, close enough to keep an eye on you.” He heard Dean’s voice behind him, but he did not stop or turn, only kept walking, afraid of what would happen to his already pained heart if the look on Dean’s face came close to the uncertain and wounded pitch that was already in his words. He kept walking even as Dean called out his name, the sound of it a broken plea. 

He made it into his room without looking back, made it over the threshold without looking back, before the tone in Dean’s voice became angry and desperate. “Dammit, Cas!” 

He suddenly felt Dean’s hand on his shoulder, grasping him and turning him around to face him and slamming the door behind him. Dean was breathing heavily through flared nostrils, his mouth set into a grim line. His eyes were a deep hunter green in the dim light of the bedroom, glinting with something Cas could not name. 

He stood stock still, blinking away the tears stinging the backs of his eyes, baffled at why Dean was stopping him from leaving, when he had made it so clear that did not want him to stay. 

And then Dean’s mouth was on his, smashing their lips together in a rough assault. Cas released a muffled and helpless cry as Dean fisted his hands in the fabric of his sweatshirt and pushed him back up against the nearest wall. He grunted out a breath at the impact and could barely drag in another when Dean’s tongue pushed past his lips, probing insistently against his own tongue, sliding between his bottom lip and teeth. The kiss was a rough thing, full of desperation and fear and guilt, nothing like the sweet, delicate kisses Cas had received from April or even Meg. 

Cas could feel his body responding to the feel of Dean’s mouth on his, and was not entirely surprised to find he enjoyed the scrape of Dean’s stubble against his chin. He rolled his hips forward, the erection straining against the inside of his jeans pressing against Dean’s thigh. A tight coil of arousal settled heavily in his stomach at the feel of Dean’s hard cock pressing back just as relentlessly. He was breathless and wanting as Dean pulled back and rested his forehead against Cas’, fighting to drag in panting breaths. 

“Goddammit, Cas, I’ve been waiting too fucking long to do that,” he whispered gruffly. 

Cas could only nod against Dean’s forehead, his hands moving up to Dean’s jeans, his fingers settling in the belt loops. It was something he had desired ever since he pulled Dean from Hell, ever since his own handprint had been burned into Dean’s skin, an unspoken mark that had bound them together.

He swallowed and licked his puffy, kiss-swollen lips, ignoring, if only for a moment that aching hurt that still clenched at his heart, that small voice that spoke that unwanted truth: Dean was pushing him away. And Cas would oblige, would leave this place, would give his own life for Dean if it came to it. But if all he had was this one moment, he would take it and cherish it for as long as he was physically able, catalogue it and pull it out and examine it on the inevitably endlessly lonely nights he was to endure. 

He pulled his hands from Dean’s jeans, sliding them up the hard plane of his chest, tangling them in his short hair. He tugged the strands back gently, bringing Dean’s head up to look him in the eye. 

Tears were crowding Dean’s eyes; his bottom lip trembled almost imperceptibly. “I ain’t got a choice here, Cas.” His voice wavered. 

“I know Dean.” Cas brought his lips up, settling them against Dean’s mouth, pouring as much understanding into his kiss as he could. He could taste the salt of Dean’s unshed tears in it, taste his own. 

Dean quickly began to return the kiss with a hungry fervor, and complied with a small moan as Cas started walking him back toward his bed. Their lips broke contact long enough for their weapons and clothes to be discarded in a hapless heap on the floor, and long enough for Dean to grab the bottle of lubricant out of his jeans pocket.

Cas fell back on the bed with a soft grunt and Dean crawled over him. He brought a hand up to the anti-possession tattoo on Dean’s chest, gingerly tracing over the star shape. A shiver wracked visibly through Deans’ body at the touch. Cas stretched his neck up and stole another kiss just as Dean slicked his fingers with the lubricant and pressed one into him tentatively. Cas gasped and fell back onto the bed. The feeling was mildly intrusive and he instinctively clenched down on Dean’s finger as it slid deeper inside. 

Dean brought his head down near Cas’. “I’m right here, Cas. Just relax,” he said softly, breathlessly, against his ear. 

Cas nodded, feeling his body loosening against the mattress, just as Dean inserted another slicked finger, stretching him open slowly. His body accepted it, the burn that had been present only a moment earlier melting into a warm pleasure that curled from his belly outward. His cock stood at attention under Dean, jumping eagerly when Dean’s stomach just barely brushed the leaking tip as he moved forward to press a soft kiss to his mouth. 

Dean’s fingers continued to work in and out of him, slowly building a tortuous tempo that had Cas rocking back to meet the thrusts, then he suddenly stilled, eliciting a frustrated groan from Cas. 

“Dean, please,” he pleaded breathlessly.

Dean’s gaze locked on his, the green of his irises almost swallowed completely by the darkness of his pupils, and he crooked his fingers, dragging his knuckles deliberately across a bundle of nerves inside of Cas that sparked a white hot trail straight to his cock as he pulled his fingers out. 

A knowing smile curved at Dean’s lips as he moved to position himself between Cas’ legs, slicking his cock with a thick coating of lubricant. Cas brought his hands up, gripping at Dean’s shoulders, one hand settling over the red handprint that he himself had marked there, an irrefutable reminder of the moment that had first brought them together. Dean gripped Cas’ hips, angling them up as he pressed the head of his cock against Cas’ entrance. He pushed inside slowly, keeping one hand on Cas’ hip and bringing the other up to brace himself up beside Cas’ neck. His head fell forward and his eyes closed tightly as a rough moan rumbled out from his chest. 

Cas released a moan of his own, feeling every inch of Dean’s length as it slipped inside him, stretching him open, filling him in the most perfect way. Dean stilled when he had pushed in completely, blinking his eyes open and looking down at Cas, wonder plain on his face. Cas could feel the hot throb of Dean’s cock inside of him as they lay motionless. 

“Is this okay?” Dean asked on an exhale. 

Cas nodded brusquely, hooking his ankles at the small of Dean’s back, urging him to move, to please God just move. 

And he did. Hesitant, shallow thrusts that soon morphed into rough pushes and pulls. The slap of skin on skin rang out in the confines of Cas’ small bedroom, intermingling with the harsh and gasping intake of breath drawn from them both. 

Cas could feel his orgasm nearing with each pounding move, and sensed Dean’s nearing too, judging by his suddenly erratic thrusts. He angled his hips higher and felt Dean’s cock glance over that bundle of nerves once, twice, and he was coming undone with a hoarse shout, his cock releasing his spend onto his stomach in a thick spurt. 

Dean followed him over the edge almost simultaneously, crying out Cas’ name in a broken stutter and filling him in a hot rush. He brought his head down to rest it on Cas’ chest, fighting to catch his breath. 

“I can’t do it Cas. This choice is too damn hard.” He panted the words out, his breath washing over Cas’ skin in warm surges. 

Cas let his legs fall back to the bed gently and slowly pulled back from Dean, wincing slightly at the over-sensitization, and guided him to lie beside him on the bed. He pressed his hand to the handprint on Dean’s arm and centered his gaze on him. 

“I would never harm Sam. If nothing else, Dean, it is important you know that.” Dean held his gaze, even as his eyebrows gathered together and harsh tears glittered at the corner of his eyes. As much as it hurt to be turned away, it hurt even more to see the pained confliction on Dean’s face. Cas pulled Dean toward him as they lay on their sides facing each other, capturing his lips in a kiss, gathering him up in his arms and holding him tightly. 

It did not take long for Dean to drift off to sleep, and it did not take long for Cas to make his choice for him, though it broke his heart in an irreparable way to do it. 

He left the Men of Letters bunker before dawn broke the next morning, with nothing more than a toothbrush, two crumpled dollar bills, an angel blade, and the warming memory of a night he’d carry with him always.


	2. I don't have a choice, but I still choose you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas never thought he'd see Dean again after he left the Men of Letters bunker, but when disturbing occurrences elicit a call to the hunter, Cas will discover that there are some things you can't just walk away from. Takes place in Season 9 episode 6 "Heaven Can't Wait"

“Where to, Cas?”

Cas glanced up at Dean over the roof of the Impala, centering his gaze on the shadowed green of Dean’s eyes, and felt that familiar warmth settle low in his belly. He had certainly been surprised when Dean had shown up at the Gas-n-sip yesterday, had been completely caught off guard, and in that moment had only been able to feel an unsolicited anger well up inside of him. It had been hard enough for him to walk away from Dean in those early, pre-dawn hours, to leave the bed they had shared such a short time ago- a few short weeks that had seemed like an unbearable eternity- but to see him standing before him had broken that carefully constructed wall he had fought so hard to put up around his heart.

Just _hearing_ his voice over the phone when he had called Dean to inform him of the disturbing situation in the town he had settled in had sent a shearing bolt of pain straight to his heart. _Seeing_ him standing before him yesterday morning had damn near killed him. And it had been all he could do to push down all that hurt and anger and _longing_ that had suddenly scorched through him and threatened to overwhelm him.

He had walked away from the Men of Letters bunker on his own accord, had made that decision for Dean because he had seen that pained confliction on his face and had only wanted to shoulder that burden away from him. But it had not been easy to slip away from Dean as he slept, and he was still hurt and confused as to why Dean had pushed him away in the first place, still uncertain if it was because Dean really did see him as a threat to Sam’s safety, or because without his grace, he was essentially useless.

But he had to admit to himself that he was glad he had called Dean; he owed him his life once again, knew that without Dean there, Cas would only be so much of a fine pink spray across the walls of Nora’s living room.

Cas’ stomach churned uneasily and he pulled his gaze from Dean, glancing down to his hand on the Impala’s door handle. _Vulnerable, Weak, Helpless_. He let himself into the car without another word, but not before catching a perplexing glint of eagerness in Dean’s eyes.

Cas slumped down on the supple leather of the car seat, letting out a heavy sigh. Dean only continued to confound him. The whole time Dean had been here, he had been nothing but smiles and encouragements and dating tips, like it didn’t matter how much Cas was hurting inside, how much his heart had ached nearly every _single_ day since he left.

Cas looked down at his hands, at his bandaged wrist, as Dean slipped into the driver’s seat beside him. Cas knew he’d be lying if he said that the firm, warm feel of Dean’s hands on the delicate skin of his wrist’s pulse point when he had expertly splinted his injury didn’t send a jolt of desire coursing through him. And he knew he’d _definitely_ be lying if he said he didn’t think about the brief moment they’d shared in that small bunker room every single night before he’d gone to sleep in the supply closet in the back of the Gas-n-sip, stroking and pulling at his cock in a poor attempt to replicate the feelings he’d experienced that night.

But things had changed in so many ways since then, and while the pain in his chest had lessened somewhat since he had been apart from Dean, having him beside him for what he knew would be a short time sparked that hurt back into a scalding hot flame because he knew that, this time, their separation might break him in a way that he’d never be able to recover from. The only way Cas knew to protect himself was to throw up those barriers again, to try and walk away from this with as much of his heart intact as possible.

He felt Dean’s eyes on him and he turned slightly in his seat to look over at him. The glow from the Impala’s instrument panel reflected in his eyes, lending to them a hungry green glimmer as he looked at Cas expectantly.

“So? Where to?”

“Just drop me off back at the gas station,” Cas replied, careful to keep his voice even.

The crooked smile on Dean’s face faltered for a moment. “What, really?” he asked, incredulous, the smirk reappearing back at his mouth.

Cas straightened in his seat and he centered his gaze out the windshield. “Yes.” He reached for his seat belt, wincing when he inadvertently jostled his wrist.

Dean chuckled softly and leaned over to reach across Cas, brushing his arm against Cas’ chest, sending desire arrowing straight to his groin at the fleeting touch. “Here, let me help with that,” Dean said, grasping for the seat belt.

“No. It’s fine,” Cas said sharply, fumbling for the belt himself, feeling pain shoot through his arm at the movement, but centering his focus on that ache rather than the arousal that tried to cloud his mind.

Dean sat back abruptly, his hands held up, a scowl darkening his features. “Okay, fine. Just tryin’ to help you out.”

“You’ve done enough Dean, really,” Cas said as he secured the belt. He regretted the biting remark almost as soon as it left his mouth, but did not apologize for it; they were just more bricks he could use to wall up around his wounded heart.

Dean only stared at him for a moment, and when Cas did not turn to meet his gaze, huffed out a darkly bemused grunt before throwing the Impala into first and tearing away from the curbside.

The drive to the Gas-n-sip was short and filled with a tense silence, and by the time they pulled to a stop in the darkened parking lot, Cas was more than ready to get out of the car before he said words he’d regret, before he did things that would only end up hurting him.

Dean slammed the Impala into park and drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. “Grab your stuff and I’ll drive you to your house,” he said tersely, not even bothering to glance in Cas’ direction.

Cas fidgeted in his seat for a moment before speaking in a quiet voice. “This is it, Dean. This is where I’m staying.”

Dean barked out a harsh, humorless laugh. “You gotta be fucking kidding me, Cas.”

Cas unbuckled his seat belt and turned to look at Dean for the first time the whole car ride, that unwanted anger bubbling sourly in his stomach again. “I told you already, Dean. When I lost my grace, I lost everything. It might not be much, but it is an honest living and It. Is. All. I. Have.” He stabbed his finger at the gas station and enunciated each word carefully, his voice bordering on a shout.

Dean seemed taken aback before his features softened and became sullen. He looked away from Cas, staring out the windshield, his fingers clenching and unclenching over the steering wheel- fingers that had gripped Cas’ hips so tightly, the fading bruises still marked his skin. Cas blinked away the memory and saw Dean’s adam’s apple bobbing visibly as he swallowed.

“You didn’t lose _everything_ , Cas,” he said thickly. “I’m still here.”

Cas kept his eyes locked on Dean’s profile. “I have lost that as well. I lost that the day I chose to leave the bunker and step out into this world alone, for Sam’s well-being, to unburden you from my own uselessness.”

“Goddammit, Cas! How many times do I have to fucking tell you? You are not useless!” He turned to face him, his grip tightening over the steering wheel. “You think I liked seeing you go on a date with someone else? You think I like watching you livin’ this happy, normal life without me in it?!” He shouted the words at him. “Findin’ that bed empty that morning you left, Cas, it tore me up inside. Not being able to see you or hear your voice every day is fuckin’ killing me. And if there’s anyone that ain’t got nothing here, it’s me!” he roared. His bottom lip trembled and he quickly pressed his mouth into a thin line. Angry tears glittered harshly at the corners of his eyes. “You could have at least said goodbye, for fuck’s sake Cas!” He looked forward again, his chest heaving, as a single tear tracked down his cheek. He scrubbed it away harshly and let his hands fall to his sides.

And all the reservations Cas had been holding onto, all the bricks he had tried laying down, fell away in a great rush. He crawled across the wide expanse of the bench seat and swung his leg over Dean’s, straddling to face him, feeling the angles of the steering wheel bite into his back as he settled over his lap. Dean’s eyes, pained and angry and wounded, the first sincere expressions Cas had seen him show since yesterday morning, searched Cas’ face desperately.

Cas brought his hands up to frame Dean’s face, feeling the slight rasp of his stubble scrape his palms. “It was never my intention to hurt you Dean. Please forgive me,” he spoke the words with an earnestness that welled up from somewhere inside of him and spilled out into the kiss he slowly pressed to Dean’s mouth.

Dean was still for a moment, until Cas parted his lips with the gentle insistence of his tongue, and then his hands came up, settling firmly against Cas’ hips, pulling him closer, moaning into his mouth.

Cas’ hands slipped up into Dean’s hair, tangling in the strands, holding his head still so that he could pull in a long, slow taste of Dean’s mouth. The hard press of Dean’s cock suddenly dug into Cas’ thigh as he continued to straddle him and he rocked forward, the movement and resultant friction eliciting a groan from both men.

Cas’ own erection strained almost painfully against his jeans and he suddenly had a very intense desire to be free of the confining clothing. He glanced up to Dean’s eyes, darkened almost to black by desire, and he nodded.

Cas moved off of Dean only long enough to tug his jeans off just as Dean unzipped his own fly and shimmied his pants down just enough for his hardened cock to spring free. Cas scrambled back across the seat, throbs of arousal thumping to his groin with each beat of his heart, and watched as Dean brought a hand up to his mouth and spit into it. He quickly slicked his cock with it, his head falling back, his eyes closing as he stroked himself. Cas felt like he could watch Dean pleasure himself for time without end, but Dean quickly opened his eyes and looked over at him, his eyebrow raised.

Cas wasted no time in swinging his leg up over Dean’s lap again, moving his hips forward so that Dean’s cock was centered right at his entrance. His own cock stood rigidly, curving up toward his belly, aching for touch.

Dean settled his hands on Cas’ hips again as Cas slowly lowered himself onto Dean’s cock. Cas brought his hands up to Dean’s shoulders to leverage himself, and felt Dean breach his entrance. He let out a long shuddering moan as Dean slipped inside of him with a slow, gentle push and watched as Dean’s eyes fluttered closed.

His eyes flew open when Cas pushed down all the way in one quick motion, settling himself flush against Dean’s thighs, his mouth formed into a soundless O of pleasure.

Dean let Cas set the pace at first, shallow, quick thrusts, to give him time to adjust. Cas fisted his hands into the fabric of Dean’s shirt at his shoulders when Dean suddenly gripped his hips tightly, shoving Cas down on his cock roughly. Twin moans echoed in the heated confines of the Impala.

“Oh God, Cas. This is just…” His words faltered and he gritted his teeth, his eyes squeezing shut. And then Dean’s hand, still slicked with his own saliva, was wrapped around his cock, twisting up over and over. Cas gasped, his head falling back, letting Dean’s name fall from his mouth in a whispered rush of Enochian.

“I need you Cas. I’ll always need you,” Dean groaned coarsely, the cords of muscle standing out at his neck, pulling Cas down roughly, holding him still against him as he came forcefully.

And with a final twisting pull of Dean’s hand, Cas was lost too, spilling over Dean’s fist with a strained cry.

He leaned forward, resting his head on Dean’s chest, hearing the rapid pounding of his heart under his ear, as they both fought to catch their breath.

“We’ll figure this out together, Cas,” Dean said huskily against Cas’ hair. “We’ll figure out a way to make this work.”

Cas nodded against the sweat soaked material of Dean’s shirt under his cheek, feeling more contented and sated in that moment, huddled in Dean’s arms, surrounded by their intermingling scents, than he had for weeks. And he knew that this life he had tried constructing, this neat, organized, _normal_ life, could never come close to fulfilling that longing he had felt for millennia, not when that emptiness could only ever be filled by Dean’s presence, even if he was not right at his side.

“Will you come to my hotel with me?” Dean’s voice drifted down to him, and he could only nod, knowing that even if he didn’t have a choice, if he was never even given one, he would always choose Dean Winchester.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title of this chapter "I don't have a choice, but I still choose you" comes from the song 'Poison & Wine' by The Civil Wars which I listened to on repeat while writing this. I urge you to listen to this song, just to see the almost blinding parallels between the song and Dean and Cas' relationship.


End file.
